


Hunter

by catbythefirelight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dyatlov Pass Incident, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Historical References, Horror, Mystery, Partners to Lovers, Reincarnation, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:20:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26805025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catbythefirelight/pseuds/catbythefirelight
Summary: In 1959, nine hikers traveled deep into the northern Ural mountains of Russia and died gruesomely under unknown circumstances. History would call this event the Dyatlov Pass Incident. In 2009, residents of villages near the Ural mountains whisper of monsters howling for sacrifices every night. When a wealthy Russian aristocrat vanishes at his holiday villa in the Ural mountains, Draco and Hermione, well-known Curse-Breaking historians, are employed to investigate the origins of these incidents.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 11
Kudos: 16





	Hunter

**Author's Note:**

> The Dyatlov Pass incident was something that actually happened in Russia in 1959. If you didn't know, this event spurred a lot of conspiracy theories to try and explain what happened. Official investigations concluded this year that the nine hikers died of hypothermia after trying to escape from an avalanche in low visibility. Now, I'm a science student, so I think that sounds reasonable, but as a writer, I thought it would be interesting to fictionalize the Dyatlov Pass incident and ask: so, what happened if the nine hikers were Russian witches and wizards, and the incident actually did have a supernatural origin?
> 
> A disclaimer, though, that I don't mean to cause any disrespect to the deceased. I'll be using fake names for the nine hikers and all the Russian characters in this story, and even the gender ratio among the nine hikers will be different here. Hope you guys enjoy the journey of this fic!

_If only you could see the beast you've made of me  
I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free  
_ _The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound  
I hunt for you with bloody feet across the hollow ground_

  * Howl, Florence + the Machine



_Ural Mountains, Yekaterinburg. 1969._

Yelena hated the snow. 

Snow was common in this part of Russia, but Yelena couldn't say that growing up with snow made it any better. It was cold, and wet, and nowhere near as fluffy as it looked. Her feet were so small, they kept sinking down into the thick blanket of snow on the ground. Her legs ached with the effort of keeping herself from getting buried in the snow.

A sneeze tickled her throat. Yelena tried to raise her hand to cover her mouth, like a good girl, like Mama always told her to do, but her arm was stiff with cold and it wouldn’t move fast enough. Instead, she sneezed, loud and explosive like a boy, and before she knew it, a fire had sparked in the air in front of her. 

Yelena screamed and scrambled backwards. The fire fizzed out, probably because of how cold it was, but an old man passing by frowned at her anyway. She hid her face in her arms in shame. She hated her bouts of accidental magic. Papa hated them too - Yelena always set fire to things when she sneezed. Once, she’d almost burned the kitchen down. It had taken Papa months to stop shouting at her about it. 

Before she knew it, she was crying on her knees in the snow. She wished the snow would go away and never come back. It never brought anything except grief. 

She hated living here. 

She was so absorbed in her tears that when she heard a gentle, feminine voice, she shrieked, unraveling herself from her crouch and jumping up. 

A woman was bending down, peering at Yelena. She was dark-skinned, with bright brown eyes and thick, bushy hair that practically seemed to form a halo above her head. She repeated her words, but her accent was so strange, Yelena didn’t understand her at first. “Hello? Are you okay?”

“I–Hi.” Yelena stared at the woman. Mama would scream if she saw the woman’s hair. She would probably suggest a list of hair-smoothing Potions she knew. 

Had the woman seen the fire? Would she tell Papa? Papa would be so cross. He hated Yelena’s bouts of accidental magic too.

Mama once told her that Papa’s tantrums were because he couldn't do magic. Yelena had always wanted to know why she was born a witch. Papa would probably like her better if she wasn’t. 

The woman slowly put her hand forward. “I’m Hedia. Hedia Grant.” 

Yelena peered at Hedia cautiously. “I’ve never met any Hedias before. Or Grants.”

Hedia laughed. The sound rang through the air pleasantly. “That’s because my name’s actually German. My parents are from Germany. They immigrated here for their work before I was born.”

Yelena hesitated, sucking in her lower lip. She stared at Hedia’s hand. “Mama tells me not to talk to foreigners.” 

Something crossed the woman’s face, and Yelena shrunk back a little, wary. Hedia’s face softened, her lips quirking upwards. “I’m not really a foreigner. I was born here in Russia, just like you.” 

Yelena eyed her a little. When Hedia didn’t do anything besides stare back at her evenly, Yelena made her decision and took Hedia’s hand. Her palm was soft and smooth. Her fingers wrapped around Yelena’s hand firmly. Hedia stood up. Yelena followed her. Hedia led her to the side of the closest wall. It was the outside of a little pub Yelena knew her Papa liked. Laughter rang out inside, together with the clinking of glass. If Yelena touched her hand to the wall, she knew she would feel it vibrating with activity and life. She'd done so many times, sneaking out of the house to see where her parents went during the day. 

When Yelena peeked back up, she saw that Hedia was smiling. “So why were you sitting there, Yelena?”

She shuffled her feet. “Mama told me to wait here for her.” 

“Where did she go?” 

Yelena pointed opposite them, to the groceries shop. “She went in there with my aunt.” 

“Why didn’t you follow them?”

Yelena looked away. “I’ll get in Mama’s way if I do.”

A man with the palest blonde hair Yelena had ever seen rounded the corner. Yelena squeaked when he approached them. She held on tighter to Hedia’s hand. 

“It’s okay. Dimas is a friend.” Hedia patted her hand. “Why don't you come in to the warmth of the pub?” 

Yelena balked. The pub wasn’t a place for girls. “Mama will be angry.” 

“Grant, did you pick up a stray?” Dimas drawled. His Russian was strange, too. Not like Hedia's, but it was crisp and sharp, like he’d been taught by private tutors or something. Yelena stared at him curiously. 

“Dimas, be nice,” Hedia said pointedly. “This is Yelena. She’s waiting for her mother here.”

“In the cold?” Dimas peered down at Yelena. She shivered. He had gray eyes. She’d never seen gray eyes before. 

In the daylight, surrounded by miles and miles of white snow, his eyes seemed almost colourless. It felt like they could see right through her, strip the muscles off her bones. Like the butchers in her village. Except Dimas would do it without lifting a finger. 

“I mustn’t go in,” Yelena muttered, hunching her shoulders and looking away. As subtly as she could, she shifted towards Hedia. “Mama will be worried if she can't find me.” 

Dimas let out a loud sigh. He raised his wand arm. Yelena caught the movement out of the corner of her eyes and stumbled backwards, squeaking indignantly. “Hey!” 

Dimas froze. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me. I wanted to cast a warming spell on you. Is that okay?” 

Yelena turned her nose up. “No.” What if Dimas cursed her instead? She could tell he didn’t like her very much. 

Dimas sighed impatiently. A cloud of white puffed out in front of his mouth. He shed his outer coat. He had another coat on him underneath it, but it was shorter and thinner. 

He swooped down before Yelena had a chance to duck away. He wrapped his coat around her small shoulders, and she was immediately enveloped in its warmth. It was so big on her that the arms swallowed up her hands, but she liked it. Feeling was slowly returning to her fingers. She looked down at the coat in wonder. It seemed expensive. There must've been warming charms on the inside of the coat. 

“You can have that, then,” Dimas said. “We need to leave to Ural soon, I don’t have time to argue with you.” 

Yelena was about to reluctantly peel the coat off her and give it back, but she made a double take when she heard his words. “You’re going _where_?” 

“The Ural mountains,” Dimas enunciated the words slowly, like she was a little kid. 

She bristled, but she decided to ignore his tone this once. “No, you mustn't go. You can’t!” 

Dimas stared down at her, his eyebrows raised high in his forehead. Hedia looked curious. 

“Why not?” 

“Cause–Because you just can’t. It’s dangerous!” Yelena stumbled over her words in her haste. “Everyone who goes there, they always die.” She tugged on Hedia’s hand and looked up at her, trying to impress on her the urgency of the situation. 

But Hedia only looked back down at Yelena quizzically. 

“How did they die?” Hedia asked her, but her voice was only mildly curious. As if Hedia was asking how Yelena’s day was going. Not at all as if she were actually concerned by Yelena’s words. Yelena bristled. 

“A monster took them, Grandma says.” Too late, Yelena realized that she sounded like a child. “I don’t know, something killed them. Their brains were all blown out on the snow. My Uncle told me.” Maybe the details would convince them. 

Hedia and Dimas exchanged looks. 

“Uncle Sasha saw all the bodies,” Yelena insisted. Uncle Sasha was a nice man. He never shouted. He’d never lie to her. “He’s a ranger. If you don’t believe me, you should believe him. Only a monster could have done all that.” 

Dimas drawled, “I’m not sure how much we can trust a man who spills gory details to children.” 

Yelena stomped her foot and drew herself up. “So? And who says I should trust you?” Too late, she realized how childish she sounded. She felt her face heat, but she thrust her chin out anyway. 

Dimas didn’t deign to reply. 

“We’ll take care of ourselves and be very careful,” Hedia reassured her, but her voice was distracted. She glanced at her watch. “We need to go soon. I’m sorry, Hedia.” 

“Haven’t you heard about the stories about the Ural mountains before?” Yelena insisted. “Didn’t you speak to someone here? Didn’t you hear that it’s cursed? We're witches, don't you believe it? Everyone says it.”

“Well, yes, we’ve heard the rumours, but we’ve done our research,” Hedia explained. “There’s a type of non-magical disaster called avalanches, you know? They happen quite often at Ural. We don’t believe it’s a monster which killed those people. We just need to keep a lookout.” 

Hedia was speaking confidently, and Yelena was almost convinced, even if she didn’t really know what an avalanche was. But when she looked at Dimas, she saw his lips were pursed. Yelena didn't know what his expression meant, so she opened her mouth to speak again. “But what if it was a–”

“We know how to handle ourselves even if it’s a curse. We know a lot about curses.” Dimas cut her off. “We need to go now. The others are waiting.”

Yelena searched their faces, but all she saw was their patience growing thin. She wanted to stomp her foot, but she thought it would just annoy Hedia. If avalanches were still disasters, did really it matter whether they were caused by curses or not? 

“I’m sorry, Yelena,” Hedia apologized. “Don’t worry about us, okay? We’ll be fine. We’re well-prepared.”

They wouldn’t listen to anything she said. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. She made to shrug off Dimas’s coat reluctantly, but he stopped her. “You’re gonna freeze if you don’t keep it on.” 

Hedia bent down to tuck the coat around her properly. “If your Mama doesn’t come soon, promise me you’ll go into the shop, okay? Find the shopkeeper. You need warmth.” 

Yelena nodded. She peeked up at Dimas, tucking his coat tighter around her chest. “Th–thank you.”

Dimas waved his hand dismissively. “It’s nothing. I have five others just like it.” 

Yelena thought she heard Hedia mutter, “Spoiled ferret.” But when she looked up, Hedia’s face was serene and calm, like she hadn't said anything at all. Dimas was glaring at Hedia, though. 

“Well, maybe we’ll see each other again someday, Yelena,” Hedia said. She patted Yelena’s hair. “Promise you'll take care of yourself.”

Yelena nodded mutely.

Hedia and Dimas walked away. They vanished behind the corner. 

Picking her way on the snow silently, Yelena followed them discretely. She peeked around the corner. 

“You were like a clucking mother hen with that girl.” Yelena heard Dimas snicker. 

Hedia shoved him none too gently. “Shut up.” 

Dimas stumbled with a laugh, and then swerved to catch Hedia’s hand. He pulled her in and kissed her firmly on the mouth. Yelena wrinkled her nose. She thought Hedia would thrust Dimas away again; instead, Hedia closed her eyes and cupped her hand to his cheek, angling his face closer. Dimas slung his arm tight around Hedia's waist, pulling her against his chest. 

Yelena felt her face grow warm as she watched them. They no longer seemed like the Hedia and Dimas she'd met, but like two strange figures wrapped around each other in the snow, creating their own little bubble in the world. Passersby averted their eyes or muttered in disapproval, but they seemed entirely oblivious. They separated eventually. 

When they did, they walked away at a brisk pace, holding hands. Yelena’s eyes were watering from the cold. But she didn’t look away from them until they were in the far distance, at the other end of the village. Just two little black spots in a world of white. 

A shiver crawled up her spine. Yelena fisted her hands in Dimas' coat. She had a niggling feeling that she would never see Hedia or Dimas again. 

But they were adults, after all, always having something to do. Even if – when – they came back from their hiking trip, they wouldn’t have the time to drop by the village just to see Yelena, a little girl they'd talked to for barely five minutes. 

She'd never see them again, but that didn't mean they would die. Hedia and Dimas were different from the others. Yelena believed it. She knew it. She staunchly refused to entertain any other notions. They’d survive the Ural mountains. They had seemed so sure, so confident. 

Dimas could kill the monster, if they met it. He had gray eyes, a killer's eyes. He could protect Hedia. They were fine. 

Weeks later, Yelena had almost forgotten about Hedia and Dimas. Until one morning, when Yelena was busy helping Mama set up the table for breakfast. At the time, she was only thinking about how hungry she was. Her stomach had rumbled loudly, and she grimaced. That’s when her eyes caught the headline on the newspaper Papa was reading. 

The stack of glass plates in her little hands slipped. They tumbled to the floor with a ear-splitting crash. Dimly, Yelena registered the impact of glass shards on her bare feet. 

Papa threw his newspaper down on the floor, infuriated, and shouted, “Do you know how much those plates cost me? Look at me, you little brat!” 

But Yelena’s eyes were fixed downwards, on Papa's newspaper: on Hedia and Dimas in the centre of a magical monochrome photograph. Their laughing faces played on a loop. Their arms were tossed over each other’s shoulders, and they were surrounded by other people Yelena didn't know. 

And above them, there were Cyrillic words printed in a large font Yelena would never forget.

_Nine students meet their death while hiking in the Ural mountains._

**Author's Note:**

> Naturally, we'll see the present Draco and Hermione in the next chapter! Please leave kudos if you liked this and let me know what you thought of this prologue in the comments! ;)


End file.
